


Sharpened

by hallowedmaiden



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 13:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19992739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowedmaiden/pseuds/hallowedmaiden
Summary: Time can fade memories, but it can never erase them.





	Sharpened

Up, higher, the jagged harsh lines of the old oak tree a stark companion to the ashy blanket of sky that was wrapped around the world...black on gray...a muted mosaic of browns and oranges below my feet, colors of autumn, of a slow death…

Small crunches with each step forward, twigs snapping and leaves turning to dust...three steps, then four, until the tips of my fingers reached the hard bark, unyielding to my delicate touch. Tendrils of dark brown hair whipped around my face with the power of the wind, and my gaze followed the twisting and winding lines all the way up to the very tips of the branches, bare from the changing seasons. 

I envied nature. 

I envied its power of survival over anything...storms, destruction, chaos...people. Nature always recovered, always returned stronger than before. 

And when I stood in the forest, listening to the animals, and the swaying trees...the rain smashing against the soil...it was a reminder of what I was. 

A storm in and of itself, capable of withstanding anything and everything...anyone. Within me, I held the power of a thousand, a mind deeper than the deepest ocean...and my heart, still, hardened, turned into a shell...my only passenger. 

I may envy nature, but it was only because I wished to equal its strength. 

And equal it I would. 

Lifting my fingers away from the tree, I let my hand drop back to my side, and lowered my eyes to the ground. 

Survival. Such a simple thing. Life or death. Yet...for some, fate was tipped in one direction. 

When I stood here, if I looked long enough, I could still see the soil flecked with red, a crimson splatter stretched away from the tree as the rain made valiant attempts to wash it away...a trail leading all the way to the smashed wooden door behind me, and then inside...bloody hand prints there, on the edge, then on the wall, smeared…

The sound of my screams, first of shock, a throat-tearing wail of agony...then of anger, a scream that shook the trees. 

And a vow. 

To run. And never stop running. 

Because he would never stop chasing me. Not after what he’d done to my family. 

My eyes slipped closed, the weight of memories sunk into the air around me forcing them down. 

It had been two hundred years since I had stood here, and even still, I knew exactly where it was. My home. The birthplace of Katerina Petrova, a delicate human, untainted from the world...a pure creature. 

Pure no longer. 

And I wish I could say it was his fault...that he’d turned me into a monster...but I couldn’t.

Because it was mine. 

And I hadn’t turned into a monster, the monster inside of me had simply stirred at the first sweet taste of blood...my first taste of immortality so long ago. My first taste of what power really felt like. 

And my first lesson. Use that power. Make people know your name like they knew his. Make people fear you like they fear the Devil. They will whisper your name, spread legends about you...you will turn into a myth. 

Until they see the spark of Petrova fire in your eyes when they meet you...just before they draw their last breath...they will know that you are no myth. 

You’re a nightmare come to life. 

My eyes snapped open, reinvigorated by the reminder that I couldn’t stay here long. It was a risk coming here in the first place. I turned from the tree, from the place where my mother had turned into nothing but a corpse five hundred years ago, and looked into the deep expanse of the Bulgarian forest. 

I had the entire world at my fingertips, yet I could only flit through it like a hummingbird, stopping just for a moment to enjoy the wine in Paris, to smell the flowers in Vienna, even walk around the Pyramids in Giza…

A life on the run is one I wouldn’t recommend for anyone, but it was one I had grown used to. 

It sharpened me, year after year...and it taught me one thing.

I had made it this long, I had been running for five hundred years from Klaus Mikaelson. 

I could make it five hundred more. 

And he would see the storm left in my wake when he never quite managed to catch me.


End file.
